


Taste Test

by Albuslover8101, BrandybuckPuck



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cooking, Dwarf Courting, Fluff, Hobbit Courting, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albuslover8101/pseuds/Albuslover8101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandybuckPuck/pseuds/BrandybuckPuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had no idea that Thorin could cook such delicious food! When he learns that Thorin never learned how to bake, however, Bilbo takes it upon himself to teach him.</p><p>It's fine. There's no way that Thorin would know that cooking together is one of the steps in Hobbit Courting traditions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This fic has been a looooong time in the making! I think it was in August when I first started talking to Sarah about my head canon that Thorin can cook really well due to having to provide for himself and his family while in exile, but never learned how to bake because those ingredients and dishes were more of a luxury.
> 
> Anyway, I'm really proud of this fic so far, and it's been so wonderful to work together on a fic with Sarah again! <3 
> 
> So many thanks to our wonderful beta's Magic-Redhead, Dragonbilbo, and bicycles-bees-bisexuals.

“Master Ori, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” Thorin called out to the young scribe as they left the council room on the way to the dining area after a long meeting. 

“Yes, King Thorin?” The scribe stopped walking, turning to face Thorin and letting the other dwarves who had been in the council meeting to move past him.

Thorin cleared his throat, “I have a matter I would like to discuss with you… You see, I remember you and Master Baggins talking frequently during our quest and I had a few questions about some of the things that were said.”

The young dwarf tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Master Baggins and I discussed a great deal of topics over the course of the quest, could you be a bit more specific, Your Majesty?”

Thorin felt his face flush. Even though Dwalin had probably already told Ori what they had discussed together that morning, Thorin still felt uncomfortable getting the words out.

“I… wish to know about… Hobbit... courting customs…” he said, looking everywhere but at the other dwarf’s face. His voice had dropped almost to whisper by the end of sentence and Ori had had to lean in a bit.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Ori said, clearly trying to suppress a smile at this point, “I didn’t catch that last bit.”

Thorin sighed. Yes, Dwalin had definitely spoken to his betrothed.

“I heard you speaking with Master Baggins about certain Hobbit customs. Specifically-” another pause to clear his throat. “Specifically in regards to Hobbit courting. I believe… cooking was involved?”

Ori smiled at his king, “As it so happens, Your Majesty, I have the journal that I had on the quest with me right here. Let’s see…” He said, pulling a small leather bound book out of his pocket, and began thumbing through the pages muttering to himself, “Hmmm… where is it, troll… Elves… Drawing of a tree… Ah! Here it is! Hobbit courting customs!” he said, pointing to a page, and beckoning Thorin closer to read over his shoulder...

~One Year Earlier~

Ori twirled the new beads in his braids absentmindedly, watching the sparring match that was taking place across the field, in the spacious clearing outside of Beorn’s house. He sat with his back resting against the rough bark of an oak tree, the leaves swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. 

“Is there any significance to those?” Bilbo asked as he took a seat next to Ori, pulling Ori out of his daydreaming. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“Hmm? Oh, the beads?” Ori blushed slightly and a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Oh, yes there is significance in all the beads that Dwarrow wear.”

Bilbo smiled at him. “I didn’t notice those beads yesterday, are they new?” 

Ori nodded, his fingers returning to the beads.

“Ah, yes. They are. Master Dwalin gave them to me this morning.”

“Oh, I see,” Bilbo said with a knowing smile. “And I’m assuming that means something?”

Ori blushed even deeper as he looked back towards the meadow where Dwalin and Fili were sparring.

“You know, when Hobbits start courting, we give each other gifts as well,” Bilbo said casually when Ori had yet to respond. “Not beads of course. Mostly flowers.”

Ori valiantly tore his gaze away from the match, where Dwalin had just removed his tunic in the afternoon heat. 

“How did you know these were courting beads?” Ori asked.

“I may not be an expert in Dwarven courting, but I can tell when a pair are smitten with each other easily enough,” Bilbo winked at Ori as he began gently pulling up the dark blue flowers that surrounded them. “But all of you have beads in your hair. Does that mean… are _all_ of you courting someone then?” 

“Oh no, no,” Ori clarified. “Different beads mean different things, just as different braids are used to signify different meanings.”

“Oh, I see,” Bilbo said, and though he was still looking at the flowers beneath them, Ori could see a hint of relief in his features.

“Thorin’s beads, for example,” Ori said carefully, watching Bilbo’s expression. Sure enough, the Hobbit pulled up the next flower with a bit more force, adding it to the pile that he had already collected without meeting Ori’s eyes. “They are the beads of his family, and his braids signify his standing among us. Nothing to do with courting at all, you see?”

Bilbo hummed and continued picking flowers for a moment. Dwalin and Fili had ended their fight when Fíli looked like he would fall down and go to sleep right there. There was only a brief pause in the action before Kíli and Bofur took to the ring. Ori noticed that Thorin had left the ring of Dwarrow around the match at some point, though he had not seen him leave.

“Hobbits give flowers instead of beads?” Ori asked, curious to know more about Hobbit culture. He and Bilbo had been sharing facets of their cultures during the Quest, each eager to know more, but courting had never been a topic discussed before. 

“Among other things, yes,” Bilbo replied, beginning to lay the flowers out in a row before him, angling their stems so that they all faced towards him. “There are many steps in Hobbit courting, as I’m sure there are in Dwarven courting.”

Bilbo looked up at Ori and nodded.

“A crown of flowers is given by the suitor, to begin the courtship,” Bilbo nodded his head towards the flowers he had begun to assemble into a twist, nimble fingers tucking the stems together. “If it is accepted, then the real courtship begins.”

Ori smiled, watching as the flowers began to resemble a simple crown.

“And what does that entail?” he asked.

“Once a courtship is established, the couple begins to bake together,” Bilbo explained. “If the courtship continues to succeed, each Hobbit must prepare a final dish for their intended. The wedding usually takes place after.”

Bilbo paused in his weaving to give Ori a rueful smile.

“That’s if the dish is well-received by the intended.”

Ori’s laughter was interrupted by a shadow falling across the pair of them.

“Master Ori, Master Baggins,” Thorin greeted with a nod. “I hope you are both well.”

“Oh, Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, shoving the crown of flowers beneath Ori’s small pack between them. “Ah, hello. Yes, good. We’re fine. Are you.. how are you feeling?”

Ori stifled a snicker with a cough.

“I am well, thank you,” he replied. There was a moment of heavy silence, punctuated only by the wind rustling through the leaves. 

“Would you like to-”

“I was thinking of a walk, would you-”

Both Bilbo and Thorin stopped as they realized the other was speaking.

Ori’s face was beginning to hurt from resisting his grin. 

Thorin cleared his throat and began again.

“Would you care for a walk, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo stood, a few errant flowers falling off his lap. 

“Yes, I think I would,” he replied with a smile, falling into to step by Thorin. 

Ori watched them for a while, as they followed a worn path towards the gardens before he pulled out a quill and his journal and began a new section beneath where he had begun recording all that Bilbo had told him on Hobbits.

He had a feeling Hobbit Courting Customs would come in handy to a certain leader of the Company. 

~Present time~

“Thank you, Master Ori… I believe that will be very helpful.” Thorin said smiling. He nodded at Ori before taking his leave, thoughts already turned to how he could best fulfill these customs and win over Bilbo’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a few chapters written so far, but really need encouragement to finish up, so please leave some comments below! I know we'd both really appreciate it!  
> Enjoy,  
> ~Ariel
> 
> Follow us over on tumblr at baegginoakenshield (me) and brandybuckpuck (Sarah) for more Bagginshield nonsense!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin have been taking dinner together for a while now, but Thorin has a bit of a surprise tonight that is sure to go straight to any Hobbit's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and we hope you enjoy!

Bilbo walked down the hall hurriedly, as he was eager to get to Thorin’s rooms in the Royal Apartments of Erebor. A note had been sent to him while working in the great library earlier from Thorin, asking him to dine with him that night. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to eat with one another since the reclaiming of Erebor, but Thorin’s formality in the note gave Bilbo pause. Thorin had been a bit distant within the last week, and Bilbo had to wonder if this had anything to do with it. Regardless, Bilbo had been looking forward to seeing his friend since the note arrived, and continued his brisk pace to where Thorin must be waiting.

Even before he entered the Royal Wing, he could smell a warm, tempting aroma wafting through the corridors. Even Dwarves passing by the entrance to the Wing paused for a moment and looked towards the door with curiosity. Once Bilbo reached the door to Thorin’s rooms, he nodded at the guards standing at attention and knocked twice on the door. 

The door was opened almost immediately, revealing Thorin standing just inside, with a grey-blue tunic, but no crown or heavy cloak. His hair was pulled back, away from his face, and Bilbo found himself unable to say anything for a moment. 

It wasn’t until he realized that he was still standing in the doorway between two guards that he decided speaking was probably appropriate. 

“Ah, hello. May I come in?”

The words seemed to pull Thorin out of a daze as he cleared his throat, opening the door wider, standing to the side to give Bilbo access to the room.

“Of course, please,” Thorin said, gesturing behind him. Bilbo smiled and moved past him. It smelled even better inside the room than it had outside in the hallway. Bilbo took a deep breath, inhaling all the wonderful smells emanating from with the Royal apartments. “Thank you for joining me tonight, Master Baggins.”

“It’s my pleasure, Thorin,” Bilbo replied. “It smells wonderful in here! What are we having for dinner tonight?”

Thorin’s eyes lit up in pleasure, “Come this way, Bilbo.” 

He motioned for Bilbo to follow him into the dining area of the Royal Apartments. Bilbo had been here numerous times since Thorin had moved in here once they had been restored and he was out of the medical bay, but the sheer vastness of the rooms still took some getting used to. When they approached the dining table, Bilbo could see an array of platters covering the table. 

Thorin stood behind a chair at one end of the table, pulling it out and motioning for Bilbo to take a seat. Bilbo accepted it with a smile, expecting Thorin to take his seat at the other end of the long wooden table but the Dwarf remained nearby. Thorin moved to the platter nearest Bilbo and placed his hand on the lid, pausing for a moment to raise his eyebrows at Bilbo.

“Are you ready, Master Baggins?” he said with a grin.

“I’m a Hobbit,” Bilbo reminded simply. Thorin chuckled and started to remove all of the bronze lids from the dishes. Once all the lids were removed, Bilbo was met with the sight of creamy white mashed potatoes, a dark loaf of freshly baked bread, two red and two yellow peppers stuffed with what looked to be meat and cheese, and a meat dish in the center that Bilbo didn’t recognize. 

Bilbo found himself speechless for a second time that night as Thorin filled a plate for him. 

“Back in the Shire, Hobbits everywhere are feeling incredibly jealous, and they have no idea why,” Bilbo said in awe as he gazed appreciatively at the plate in front of him. He had no idea where to even begin, for each of the dishes looked exceptionally tempting. 

Thorin had taken a seat, not at the far end of the table as usual, but at the corner of the table nearest Bilbo. He had yet to take a bite of anything either, waiting for Bilbo to begin. True to his Hobbit character, Bilbo settled at last on the potatoes.

He scooped up a forkful, and closed his eyes as the buttery goodness melted into his mouth, causing Bilbo to let out an involuntary moan. He began eating in earnest, cutting into the peppers and meat with great gusto. Everything tasted divine, Bilbo hadn’t tasted such good food since he had control of his own kitchen, back when his parents were still alive and cooking for one another. 

When he looked away from his plate, he noticed that Thorin was still watching him, his eyes wide. Bilbo realized that he must look pretty improper, stuffing his mouth with food in the presence of a King, regardless of the fact that said King is his friend.

“I’m terribly sorry, that was rude of me,” Bilbo said, setting his fork and knife down and dotting his lips with a napkin. “I am just so blown away by this meal! It is absolutely perfect! Eru, the flavors in the peppers, and spices in this meat! I don’t even know what this meat dish is, but it is simply amazing!” 

Bilbo gushed, the words coming out in droves over how much he loved the food, “I will have to find Bombur and congratulate him on an excellently cooked meal later!”

The bright smile that had been filling Thorin’s face as Bilbo talked about the food vanished at the mention of Bombur, “Well… the meat dish is called hasasufalnhamd [1] and it is made by rolling cheese and crumbs of bread into a thin piece of meat. And actually… I am the one who cooked this meal.” Thorin stated, eyes looking everywhere but at Bilbo.

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in shock, “What?! Really? By Eru, Thorin, this is one of the greatest meals I have ever eaten!” he exclaimed. At his statement, Thorin finally looked back at him, his eyes wide, “I’m sorry I assumed that Bombur had cooked this meal, but I had no idea you knew how to cook!”

Thorin cleared his throat, “Ah yes, I see why you wouldn’t… I never cooked during the quest because it was what we had hired Bombur to do, and he is quite good at it. But, well. During the years that my people were exiled, I had to learn how to fend for myself…” He trailed off before smirking, “It wasn’t until a certain nephew of mine complained about the taste of the stew that I made him that I really decided I needed to learn how to make something decent. And so I practiced. And learned.”

Bilbo was impressed to say the least, “Well, I... suppose that does makes sense. Of course, you would have to learn how to cook after all of that. But still, Thorin, that’s amazing. You taught yourself all this?”

Thorin smiled tightly in response, “Well, not entirely. My mother, while she was still alive, helped me learn how to cook… The kitchens in the Royal Apartments were actually designed specifically for her use, because she had loved to cook so much.”

Bilbo reached out a hand and laid it on top of Thorin’s, squeezing gently. A soft smile returned to Thorin’s face as he placed his own larger hand over Bilbo’s. They stayed like that for a moment longer before Thorin broke the silence.

“Would you like to see the kitchens?” he asked. 

Bilbo’s heart flipped in excitement at the offer, before his mind could pull him back to reality. 

_There’s no way he means it like that, you foolish Hobbit. He doesn’t know what that means to a Hobbit, he’s just trying to be polite. There’s not even a flower crown for Eru’s sake!_

“Ah, yes, that would… that would be lovely,” Bilbo answered, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

Thorin stood then, and helped pull Bilbo’s seat back. He led the way across the dining hall to a wooden door on the west side of the room and held it open for Bilbo to enter first.  
The room was only slightly bigger than his own kitchen at Bag End, and just as well-furnished. Though the room had obviously been restored after the Battle, Bilbo could tell most of the original cookware and appliances remained. In one corner, a large stone stove had been built into the wall of the mountain, and decorated with intricately carved runes. A great wooden table was in the center of the room, below a hanging rack filled with wooden bowls, spoons, and mallets. 

“Goodness,” Bilbo murmured, “This place must be amazing to bake in...” he said absentmindedly, already thinking up some of his favorite pastries that he missed making in his smial.

Thorin shifted awkwardly, “I’ve never… I don’t actually know how to bake…” he trailed off, as Bilbo spun to face him in shock. “Sweets were a delicacy once we were in exile… and our money had to be put to a more practical use like sustenance. So I just… never learned.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose that would make sense… That’s a shame...” Bilbo said, as a wonderful, terribly foolish plan formed in his head. 

_Don’t you dare, Bilbo Baggins. Don’t you do it._

But his heart was beating too loudly to listen to the voice of reason this time.

“Would you… I mean, I understand if you are far too busy…"

_It’s an innocent proposition really. Just… two friends baking together. Nothing to it… But it’s not innocent for you, is it? How long have you wanted this? Still… there’s no way that Thorin could know that this is part of a Hobbit courtship._

“Of course you’re too busy, you’re the King. But I mean… if you have the time, and you would like to…” He took a deep breath. “Wouldyouliketolearnhowtobake?” Bilbo exhaled, before he could talk himself out of it.

Thorin’s answering smile was blinding, and for a moment Bilbo was able to forget his doubts and fears, “Yes, Bilbo, I would love to learn to bake with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Meat of hidden bread. (It's really braciole)
> 
> A big thank you to Ariel for being such a lovely person to write with and an amazing friend in general.  
> And thank you to everyone who has left such kind comments! It's a great motivation, and they are always appreciated! 
> 
> You can find both of us on tumblr at baegginoakenshield (Ariel) and brandybuckpuck (Sarah)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... sorry for not posting regularly? Real life sort of hit the both of us, and neither of us had any time to post this chapter or continue working on the next one... 
> 
> Eventually this story WILL be finished! But for now, Happy Valentine's Day! Enjoy some fluff!
> 
> As always, comments of encouragement will help us get through this motivational block that we are in!

Thorin growled in frustration, pushing away from his desk. His back twinged in protest from the hours he had spent hunched over the single piece of parchment that lay across the surface. A single piece of parchment that he had been staring at since he had returned from dinner, almost four hours ago if Thorin’s reckoning was correct. A single piece of parchment that showed nothing of the hours Thorin had spent in front of it, save a few lines of scratched out, illegible words.  


He huffed over to the fireplace and grabbed the small journal that Ori had given him to use from its place on the mantle. He thumbed through the earmarks until the pages opened to a well-worn section. Thorin mumbled the words to himself once more, though he had already memorized these few lines quite thoroughly.  


It was so infuriatingly simple on the page:  


_After the co-baking has continued for an unspecified amount of time, each Hobbit bakes and presents a final dish to their intended. This dish seems to be akin to the presentation of the final craft in Dwarven courting. If the dish is accepted, the Hobbits begin preparations for a wedding ceremony. Note: Must ask Bilbo in more depth about Hobbit wedding traditions. Acquired informations so far points only to the importance of flowers. Note: Flowers: VERY IMPORTANT._  


Thorin shut the journal with another huff and returned it to the mantle.  


Bake something.  


That was all he had to do.  


Thorin had drawn out mock battle plans with less trouble than this, but try as he might, he could not come up with a suitable dish to bake for Bilbo.  


Perhaps he needed to come at this from a different perspective. Instead of a potential marriage proposal, if he thought of the dish as… as a token of friendship. Then maybe he could choose a dish without the paralyzing worry that nothing would ever be good enough for Bilbo, or for asking Bilbo to stay with him forever.  


Thorin thought back on all of the days that he and Bilbo had spent baking together. Every day had been filled with joy and new discoveries about one another, and Thorin could not help the smile that overtook his face as the memories of the past month eased some of the anxiety that gripped his mind.  


The first day that they had begun cooking together, the two of them had been hyper aware of each other. When he had welcomed Bilbo into his kitchens once again the atmosphere had been tense, and stilted. Thorin wondered if he had already done something wrong and offended Bilbo in some way before they had even begun baking together. The two of them had danced awkwardly around each other as Bilbo began to show him the different ingredients that he had brought to bake with. Bilbo was barely even making eye contact with him as he passed Thorin ingredients to look at, when suddenly a huge cup of flour spilled from Bilbo’s hands as their hands brushed. The two of them stared down at the floor and their legs, now covered in white flour. Thorin looked up and locked eyes with Bilbo before letting out a snort of laughter. Finally Bilbo cracked a smile too and began to chuckle in earnest. After that the tension between the two dissipated, and the real baking had began.  


That day Bilbo had taught Thorin how to bake cookies, which for Thorin had proved difficult enough at the time, but for the task ahead was still not quite enough. He still needed something truly impressive for this occasion.  


The dish that Bilbo had showed him the next week would probably have sufficed… if Thorin could remember all of the steps and the recipe. He had been a bit distracted by Bilbo’s teaching methods that day. They had been working on a sponge cake recipe when Bilbo had handed him a wooden spoon, pointed at the contents in the bowl in front of him and simply said,  


“Alright, that just needs to be carefully folded together.”  


Thorin had looked at Bilbo with a quizzical expression.  


“As if it were cloth? Wouldn’t my hands be better suited for that?”  


Bilbo had looked at him in confusion before clearly attempting to hide a smile.  


“Right.. folding. It’s… well it’s rather difficult to explain,” he began, holding out his hand for the spoon. He had nudged Thorin over to stand in front of the bowl but hesitated before the spoon reached the ingredients.  


“No this won’t do either…” he had mumbled before glancing at Thorin. “Ok, here, take the spoon and stand here. Keep the bowl steady please, tilt it just slightly, but not too much.”  


Thorin had obeyed, confused as to how stirring could be this complicated. But all thoughts vanished from his head as Bilbo shifted to stand close behind, so close that Thorin could feel the heat against his back.  


He could tell that Bilbo was standing on his tip toes for he felt Bilbo’s chin brush against his shoulder before the Hobbit’s arms had circled around Thorin to hold his wrist gently.  


He had been vaguely aware that he was still holding the spoon and the bowl, but the rest of Bilbo’s instructions had been drowned out by the feeling of Bilbo pressed gently, but completely, behind him, his breath tickling his ear as he spoke. His hand had guided Thorin’s firmly, and Thorin remembered thinking more Bilbo is pressed up against me and that’s Bilbo’s hand on my hand and Bilbo is… pressed up… against me rather than how to fold wet and dry ingredients together was supposed to look.  


Instead of paying attention, Thorin had spent too much time wondering how he could sink into Bilbo’s warmth behind him without Bilbo noticing, so sponge cake was most likely not an option either. Perhaps Thorin could request another lesson though…  


He shook his head to focus back on the matter at hand.  


The next dish they had made, Thorin was determined to master, even if it did not end up being the final presentation to Bilbo. The day Bilbo had shown him how to make a pie had started out smoothly. Bilbo had prepared the crust as Thorin watched, and the warmth from the oven heating up had given the room a soothing coziness. This day had been different because Bilbo was intending on having Thorin prepare more of the dessert himself. Bilbo made the crust, as that was still too difficult for Thorin, but he had provided a recipe for Thorin to follow for the filling.  


“It’s quite a simple pie,” Bilbo had said as he pressed the crust into a round pan. “But it’s one of my favorites. My mother used to make it every year for my father’s birthday. I would watch, and sometimes stir, but mostly I was waiting to steal the pecans when she wasn’t looking.”  


Thorin had pictured a small fauntling with a mop of golden curls biding his time before sneaking away with a handful of pecans. It had made him think of afternoons spent in the corner of this kitchen with Frerin, scheming on how to make it out of the kitchen with the tray of sticky buns their mother had just prepared.  


They had spent most of that afternoon swapping stories of their childhood, something Thorin had rarely done. Even the memories that still stung a bit to recall felt sweeter as he told them to Bilbo, who laughed at the particularly mischievous deeds he and Frerin had concocted together or smiled warmly at Thorin when a memory of his mother brought a gruffness to his voice.  


When it had come time for Thorin to begin preparing the filling, he was certain that the warmth he felt was not from the oven alone.  


He still remembered most of the ingredients on the list Bilbo had handed him. It was true, the filling was not at all complicated. Thorin was eager at the prospect of making something that was special to Bilbo, and had been completely confident that he could make the filling without any assistance.  


He had been right, basically. The filling was completed as Thorin and Bilbo continued to talk easily. Though, he had lost his place once or twice, but that was completely Bilbo’s fault for having such a mesmerizing laugh and for breathing and… existing.  


In any case, the pie had looked fairly tempting when it had finished baking and, after Bilbo’s insistence that they wait a few minutes for it to cool, Thorin had cut them each a slice with a curl of excitement in his stomach.  


And then, what he expected would be a lifelong animosity towards pie, had begun. He had watched Bilbo’s face carefully, not even bothering to hide his anticipation, and had nearly dropped his own plate when Bilbo’s face had crumpled into clear disgust.  


After several valiant attempts to swallow the mouthful of pie, Bilbo had finally spit it out into the sink.  


It took another ten minutes of consoling and gentle pats to Thorin’s shoulder and back for Bilbo to convince Thorin that everyone had made the mistake of adding salt instead of sugar at least once, at least enough for Thorin to lift his head out of his hands.  


The rest of the pie had been unceremoniously dumped into the trash, with one last promise from Bilbo that he would tell no one, especially not Fili and Kili.  


Thorin glared at the fire. Pies would stay off the list of potential dishes. With the amount of damn pies he had made in the past week in an attempt to redeem his wounded pride, the dessert was simply not special enough anymore. Thorin was frustrated that he seemed to be such a horrible baker when he had been cooking hearty meals perfectly for so long. He had to just keep trying.  


Thorin sighed. None of the recipes that he made with Bilbo would be any good to make as the final step as a part of the Hobbit courting rituals… He needed to make sure that what he made really showcased all that he had learned about baking from Bilbo. Thorin remembered that Bilbo said that true baking should come from the heart but that was rather difficult when he doubted himself so much. Thorin sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn’t going to work. He needed to have a recipe, something to work with.  


Suddenly a thought struck him. Standing up quickly, Thorin made his way into the kitchens where Bilbo and Thorin had been spending all of their time together. Once there he closed his eyes, and allowed the memories of his childhood to rush over him. How much time had he spent in this exact spot watching his mother cook for them. She always made such delicious meals and desserts. Thorin remembered her looking over the counter every so often… looking at her recipe book.  


Where would it be? Thorin thought, Will it have survived after all this time?  


Thorin began eagerly searching through the cabinets of the kitchen, trying to remember where his mother had kept her recipe book when not using it. Opening one of the doors he pushed the things within it around before closing it and moving on to the next one. Suddenly he was struck with the memory of his mother bending down in order to pick up some bowls and returning to the counter with the book in tow. Thorin quickly moved over to the cupboards below the counter and pulled on the handle. He knelt onto his knees to peer inside and there is was, a small leather bound book tucked behind some bowls.  


Thorin gingerly picked the book up from where it had been hiding. It was covered in a layer of dust that Thorin gently blew away. He gently opened the book and could not help the smile that overtook his face. This was certainly his mother’s recipe book. Her looping handwriting was achingly familiar to Thorin as he continued to flip through the pages. The book was filled with recipes, some of the savory recipes that she had taught him while in exile, and some that he remembered from his childhood. He was so overwhelmed with nostalgia that he had forgotten what he had been looking for until he turned the page and found the word _mimaktablâg_ [1] staring back up at him.  


With over a third of the book left, Thorin had plenty of options to choose from. Any one of these desserts would be sure to impress Bilbo, especially if Thorin told him that they had come from his mother’s recipe book. But which one to choose? There were so many that he could do, all of them ranging in difficulty level. Thorin stood up from where he had been kneeling over where he had found the book. Well, that decided it. He would have to find some people to test the recipes out on first. That way he could make sure that everything would be perfect for Bilbo. Thorin sighed again, he had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1]dessert


End file.
